Such Great Heights
by quorra laraex
Summary: Where Soul Society is really just a mere high school where two strangers unintentionally learn more than what they wanted and chaos begins to unfold. — ichiruki, au


**i. inaccuracy**

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He looks up at the multiple buildings with dull amber eyes, the pestering sunlight gleaming partially on his face and reflecting off his orbs. He hovers his hand over to his forehead to shade himself as he inspects every inch of the school—from the graying stone walls to the sheer, stainless windows, to the bulging block letters on the campus sign reading _S.S. High_. The S's stood for Soul Society, but he convinces himself its real initials abbreviated _Scornfully Shitty_. Though ironically, it didn't seem that way from its appearance.

He loosens the grip he has on his schoolbag behind his shoulder as he starts toward the front entrance before a boy is shoved out the doors, his spectacles tumbling off his face and onto the pavement in front of Ichigo. The boy who looks about the same age as he is on the ground, tormented yet strong, as he watches him pick himself up. Ichigo hands him his glasses with a steady face, noticing the resentment in the other's eyes. The bullying has already been initiated. The boy says a slim 'Thank you' before heading off into the next building after hurryingly picking up the books that had collapsed from his arm after being pushed out. Ichigo raises a brow, curious to what the people were like here.

The bell rings, signaling for him to hurry to class. Everyone's already out of the halls (finally). A huge crowd in a narrow hallway is never fun. After being ambushed and pushed into lockers and greeted by unfriendly faces, his first day was already at a negative. He jams his books into his bag before shutting his cerulean locker closed and walking to the next hall trying to locate his class. He spots a rather small girl roaming the halls in an oversized sweatshirt and her dark raven hair pulled into a messy bundle on her head. He only sees the back portion of her frame when he calls out for her.

"Oy! You there. Do you know where Ukitake's history class is?"

Her head pivots above her shoulder to meet his gaze and she throws him a slight smirk as she continues toward her room without any response. Well that was useless, he thinks as he rolls his eyes and trails down the corridor to find his room at the end of the hall. He's greeted by various eye colours in grimacing stares as well as a perky white-haired professor waving for the new student to take his seat. No familiar faces in sight. There is a variety in this school; he's noticed it in the beginning. None that he's typically taken note of, however. The class ends with a shuffling amount of students hoarding through the doorway in a bust. First class finishes up fast, he observes. He's bored already.

He's already in his second class, advanced chemistry and he notices the minimum amount of classmates inside. Even the damned teacher isn't in it. It takes about three—maybe four—minutes of silent fidgeting of his knuckles at his seat when he realizes this class had absolutely nothing. It's just socializing students and an irresponsible, absent teacher. He would ask a student, anyone, but frankly, all he wanted was to get through the day. He gets up. Fuck this, he's thinking as his chair pulls backwards at his stance. He notices a group of classmates eyeing him with suspicion in their dreaded glares, but one stood out to him. It contained a slight intrigue in him. The glance wasn't completely grotesque and ignorant like the others—no. In that glassy shaded lavender eyes held a peak of interest and fascination. Shit. He might've stared too long.

He breaks their lock and sweeps his eyes elsewhere, realizing it's the same girl from earlier. That pain in the ass that didn't help him. She's sitting on one of the desks, whispering to a red-head sitting beside her on the chair with flashy tattoos and a cynical grin. There's a guy behind them, with slick white hair and a cold expression; another, a busty blonde with two other guys—one bald, one extremely gay looking. They're basically a group, a clique, or some shit. He doesn't know. _And_ he doesn't care.

He's about to leave the senseless arena when the girl on the table slides off and walks over to him with a facetious demeanor planted on her cheeky face. His eyes flicker from her, to her friends back at the desk, then back to her.

"What's your name?" she asks simply as she tucks in a loose strand of her hair that pestered at her face behind her ear.

"Why?"

He's not good at these things—making friends, being nice, trusting others. Antisocial might be his middle name, but another alias of his was 'I don't give a fuck'.

She raises an eyebrow and knocks the playful false smile off her face.

"Look, kid. Give me your name," there's a tinge of venom in her voice.

"_Kid_? It's Ichigo Kurosaki. What's yours, _brat_?"

She threw him a devious look before she kicked him, hard.

What the hell? Was this brat in taekwondo or had her foot naturally been that strong against his leg?

"It's Rukia Kuchiki." She smiles—almost—femininely, as she walks back to her crowd. "Don't forget it."

Even if he wanted to, he most certainly wouldn't.

That was the last time he saw her and that coterie that day. He isn't sure if he should feel relieved or nervous. The rest of the day is swell, and by swell, he thinks okay and normal and quite, quite boring. To be utterly honest, he already missed the dramatic little play that went on in his second period; because at least something _out_ of the ordinary happened. Bullying and arrogant faces and crowded hallways always made up high schools. They're all the same. Everything is always the same, he decides rationally. He gets through the day going to his classes and taking notes like a regular student should. He eats his lunch, takes a piss, and reads by himself wherever it's shaded. He chooses a non interaction with everyone. It's just not in his being.

When his father asks how his first day went, he mumbles a 'shut up, old man', and heads straight to his room.

Every day has been the same, even before they moved to another house to build up an even bigger clinic for his father's work. Every day, the same pinnacle of thoughts, the same daily routine. Being frank, he doesn't have much hope in this Soul Society High—not one bit. He thought it would be different, being surrounded by different people and all. But everyone's just so identical, as if everyone was just a mere carbon-copy, duplications, all manipulative and crude and untrustworthy.

It's his unchanging opinion, as of right now after his first day.

But little did he know that he is indeed very, very wrong.

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**a/n:** hey guys! so this is the first chapter to my latest au fic :) purely ichiruki. reviews are really appreciated!


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